


Vital Meetings

by CherryFlight



Series: SWTOR: The Reflections Legacy [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Jedi vs Neurodivergence, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22897870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryFlight/pseuds/CherryFlight
Summary: Flow's future is one filled with pain and hardship, and his earliest years were troubled.  It would have blighted his entire youth, if not for the intervention of the Master that inspired him to remain with the Order despite it all, and the friend he made to anchor his perspective outside of it.  It's amazing, really, how the right sort of bonds can bring light to the dark.
Relationships: Male Jedi Knight & Male Smuggler
Series: SWTOR: The Reflections Legacy [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643305
Kudos: 3





	1. Master Carish

The Jedi Temple had been packed with life, but quiet, peaceful, orderly. This was more - denser, louder, chaotic. And yet, Flow could not be bothered by it. It was new and wonderful. Life was life, and he was sworn to protect all of it. This was the world outside the temples. This is what he would fight for.

It was the first time he had seen it in years, and it was beautiful.

He remembered when he thought it was not. He remembered being smaller, and more afraid, being told that his fear would lead him into darkness. He remembered having nightmares, and waking afraid that it meant he was falling. He became afraid to even speak to anyone, worried they would judge his fear and deem him unworthy of becoming a Jedi, or worse. And he could not stop being afraid, only continue this destructive cycle of being afraid of his own fear.

And then, Master Carish had come. He remembered the Master who kept trying to scare him out of being afraid - such a misguided notion, once he’d put those words to it - speaking in hushed tones with an old human who had observed their meditation. Carish had asked to take her aside, and fearing they were talking about his risk of corruption, Flow had crept to the door to listen. It was that, sit and worry, or flee, and there was nowhere to flee. This was the only way for him to have any control over his own fate and the fear of discovery nearly paralyzed him. But he could not be seen bursting into distressed tears either, and that is what happened whenever he sat and waited for his Master to stop talking about him with another, when she entered the room and he felt the pressure on his mind that he had learned was the sensation of someone judging him negatively.

“It will certainly lead to anger or hate,” said the elderly visitor, and Flow’s hammering heart twisted into tight knots. _Oh no._ “But of himself. That could arguably end worse than a fallen Jedi. A fallen Jedi can be redeemed. A dead Jedi, on the other hand, can no longer be helped.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Is that what you’ll tell him, when the downward spiral you’ve sent him on runs its course and he does his best to ask for help, with the stunted tools and ruined trust you’ve given him? Because those are words I know, and they have never helped anyone.”

“What does that have to do with- listen, you’re making this something it isn’t. Flow trusts me.” But Flow felt something new. Something familiar, but not quite. A stab of fear, not his. His Master was uncertain. Flow listened raptly, the fear of being found eavesdropping hushed to a whisper behind the numb tingling, tinnitus ringing of a revelation. _Master Kyrie felt fear after all._

“Yes,” said Carish. “He does. But that trust, should it continue, is what will destroy him.”

The door gently swung open, as if Flow had pushed it. But it was Carish that had pulled it from meters away, leaving Flow staring wide-eyed, caught, at the two Jedi in the hallway. He froze. The thrill of revelation fled. He couldn’t breathe. “Thankfully,” said Carish, gentle as a lullaby, and with a gesture of his hand, Flow felt a light, even pressure settle around his shoulders and wrap around his torso, like the Force was a warm cloak pulled tight about him. It eased and constricted with his troubled breathing, guiding his lungs into a normal rhythm. “There, now, Flow, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” As he was left exhausted and rattled, Carish continued, still speaking gently as if trying to calm him, “he has taken the first step in the right direction. I would like to guide him on the rest. Preferably after we get him a hot cup of tea and some quiet for the nerves I set off.”

His instructor had resisted relinquishing him, of course. Master Kyrie was a woman who welcomed a challenge, and she had seen Flow as a challenge. Perhaps he had been, but with Carish’s help, he had come to understand that she had been approaching the wrong challenge entirely. “Some teachers simply don’t match some students well,” he had told him, when he was older, better able to reflect on himself without fear of finding darkness there. And even Master Kyrie had eventually seen that. By then, Carish had moved on, and Flow was sent to travel to him alone. He had been terrified of every other passenger, worried anyone could corrupt him to the dark side.

But he was there at the end, waiting for him in his comfortably worn robes, in his wooden beaded jewelry, rolling a bracelet’s bead under his thumb the way he would when he meditated or otherwise needed to put his thoughts in order. Or when he was apprehensive. Which was a thing that happened, that he couldn’t stop but he would manage, and he would teach Flow to manage. And the dark, lonely path ahead of him opened up into the brilliance of ambient life, and the gentle guidance of someone else who was simply _different_. And different was okay.


	2. Abric Solari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flow makes a friend that will stick with him for life.

Heart full of warmth, Flow looked up at Master Carish with a grateful smile, ready to tell him that he thanked the Force for bringing them together every day, but he saw the way the old man played with a bead on his necklace. His face was a mask of calm, but the fidgeting told him it was just that - a mask. When he was truly calm, he would keep his hands folded, and if he played with his jewelry it would be idle, simply because the beads happened to be under his fingers.

“Is something bothering you, Master Carish?”

“Hm? Oh-” Carish looked down at his necklace, his fingers’ movement paused. He resumed it, then, a bit more slowly, but Carish allowed him to sense his undercurrent of anxiety, so much like his own. Most importantly, his feelings were free of judgment. That’s what Flow had needed, and what he had been waiting for. Carish had always been good about that - about ensuring he always knew when he had truly offended him, and being forgiving of those mistakes where he had, even if he couldn’t always bring himself to do it aloud.

“You don’t have to say anything. I mean, you never pressure _me_ into talking to you, so I shouldn’t-um,“ his voice broke, betrayed by his own growing body. "Well, you know.”

Carish laughed gently. Everything about him was always so gentle, even through the occasional wince as his aging joints pained him. “It’s all right, Flow. I was simply searching for the words to say. You seem to enjoy it out here.”

“Of course,” said Flow, taking a curb with a slight bounce. His legs were longer, now, and reflecting on his own center of gravity, of all things, was novel. “There’s so much life out here. All just a little different. I feel connected. I mean, _more_ connected. Like I could be a part of this.”

Carish smiled down at him, the smile that sometimes accompanied a fond ruffle of his hair, but didn’t today. That was all right, too. It wasn’t a lack of affection on Carish’s part, and Flow knew this. Something bothered him, and he was not one to be comforted by contact the way Flow was. “…But it bothers _you_ , doesn’t it?”

Carish nodded. “Noise, for one, has always bothered me - a quirk of my mind, no judgment on these fine people, of course. I had wondered if you would have the same quirk, but it seems not.” He paused, and regarded Flow with a tilt of his head. “You did, however, see it in me. You have a great capacity for perception. It’s a shame that I cannot train you to heal like me, you would make a fine healer.”

“That’s all right. I’d rather succeed so I can help people, even if it’s not the same way you do.”

To that, Carish only smiled, full of fondness and pride that filled Flow with a strength of confidence.

And then there was a disturbance up ahead, a ripple of discontent and cries of pain. Both of them trained their focus on the action, pushing their way through the crowd to see a couple on the ground, dazed, while two others raced off, glowing holocoms cradled in their arms. “No! Mother! Father!” cried young voices from the holos, before the mugger disconnected them.

A Twi'lek man who had been lounging shirtless in the sun on a storage crate, until now seemingly asleep, leapt up to pursue, and as if that had been a call to arms, Flow found himself following, the pounding of his heart setting the pace, Force pulsing around him invisibly in time, ready.

“Flow, wait!” Carish called out, but his words seemed distant. “See to the victims first!”

But Flow’s focus was on the thieves. The Twi'lek had vanished, possibly around a corner as the thieves led them into back alleys. The pounding of their feet, of his heart, of his racing thoughts all settled into a rhythm. It was not peace, but it was _something_. He reached out, found anchor on the trailing thief’s shirt. He closed his fist and pulled.

The thief flew off his feet with a startled yelp, pulled back towards him as his prize flew from his hands. Panicked, Flow reached out to break his fall with one hand and to the flying holocom with the other. The thief slammed into Flow, while the holocom reversed course too sharply and sailed back over him, missing his hand by a long shot. And he saw him as he fell under the thief’s weight - the shirtless Twi'lek, holding the other holocom, with no sight of the other thief. He watched Flow’s horribly overshot Force pulls with open shock. The thief was stunned, and Flow’s chest seized in panic - he was pinned. He needed help.

“Hey! No-Shirt!”

The new nickname drew him out of his stupor - and he misunderstood the call. The Twi'lek turned and ran for the flying holocom, bounding up onto crates to catch it midair. He landed on his feet with a crow of triumph, holding both coms up in the air.

“Hah! Got it! Holodrama chase scenes have nothing on us, kid!”

The thief Flow had taken down broke from his daze and struggled to rise, but instead was lifted into the air, held in place. His pulse still pounding in his ears, Flow climbed to his feet as security arrived for the captive thief, with the second thief already in custody. Carish walked behind them, arm outstretched to hold the man struggling in midair until he could be restrained by more conventional means. At his side were the victims, healed but still shaken. They accepted their holocoms with muted words of thanks.

“Fancy coms,” said the Twi'lek. “Bet these chumps thought they could get a lot of credits for them.”

“Anniversary presents,” said the woman, as her husband looked over their holocoms. “They were anniversary presents, from our parents. I can’t thank you enough…”

“Yeah, well, you can start-…” The Twi'lek cut himself off and looked over his shoulder at Flow, who tilted his head in curiosity, focusing on the man as his adrenaline subsided. He seemed like he was trying to act like he didn’t care, though his Force presence disagreed. Was he going to ask them for credits? “-…by thanking my little Jedi buddy over there too. You would’ve only had one back if not for him.”

The way Carish met Flow’s startled glance, he hadn’t expected that, either.

“Um-” Flow fought the instinctive fear that came with being put on the spot. The Twi'lek eyed him worriedly. “No thanks necessary. I was doing what was right. It’s what Jedi are here for, right?”

“Thank you both,” said the woman, bowing her head. “We should…we should call our daughters back…” She looked up at Carish before turning away. “Thank you too, Master Jedi, for treating our bruises.”

“As my Padawan said,” said Carish. “It’s what we’re here for.”

When they had left, and the three of them were left alone, the Twi'lek offered a handshake to each of them. “Abric Solari. So you don’t have to call me ‘No-Shirt’ anymore.” There was an ease to his tone that made any real embarrassment dissipate.

Flow laughed sheepishly, anyway, but for once the overbearing weight of shame was gone. So this was what it felt like to be able to laugh at himself… “Flow Volere. It’s nice to meet you, Abric.”

“Carish Degor,” Carish said as he accepted the handshake offered him. “I’d apologize for my Padawan’s impulsiveness…but I suspect there are better times and places to teach that lesson.”

“Nothing wrong with thinking on your feet, old man.” He nudged Flow with his elbow, and he couldn’t help a small smile at the playful affection. “Right, little buddy?”

“Um…” Flow folded his hands in front of himself, unsure what to say.

“I think a new friend is more valuable than the answer to that question,” said Carish, and Flow sighed in relief as the burden of choosing a side was taken from him.

“I’ve never had a friend outside the temple,” he said, instead, and instantly regretted how pathetic it sounded.

But Abric only laughed heartily. “Well, you’ve made a good one! You seem like a good kid, and trust me, I’ve got good intuition about people.”

“In fairness,” said Carish drily, “running immediately after a pair of muggers is a bit of an obvious tell.” A chuckle escaped Flow’s lips, and Abric reached over to ruffle his hair.

“Right, right. Well, how about I treat you to dinner? I’ve got too much in my bag, anyway. My husband forgets what normal people portions are sometimes.” A twitch of his lip, an internal cringe through the Force that Flow could empathize with. “That came out wrong. Lots of muscle to keep up, you know?”

“That’s very generous,” said Carish, with a good-natured chuckle.

“Wait, that’s a _thank you_ ‘very generous’ and not a _too generous_ ‘very generous’, right?”

It was couched in joviality, but the touch of anxiety in his presence had been very real. What sort of reputation did Abric think he had? What did he do? These questions immediately dug themselves into Flow’s mind, but Master Carish was already responding, and the fear of being rude kept his otherwise too-loose tongue at bay.

“Not at all. I have good intuition, too, and it tells me that you’re a good man.”

“In fairness…” said Abric, and trailed off.

Flow picked up on the obvious and found himself blurting it out before he could stop himself. Of course. “…We have the Force.” This time, both older men gave him a chuckle and affectionate nudge, and he found himself grinning.

“Yeah, that’s kinda cheating,“ said Abric. "Now let’s go - hopefully nobody stole my stuff off that crate, or we’re _all_ out of luck for dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Jedi vs. Neurodivergence" was the concept I set out to explore when I created Flow. (It makes sense to me that, in addition to different popular interpretations throughout time, the Jedi also interpret their code differently on an individual level. Happens with real religions all the time.) I didn't realize the Jedi Knight story would be so relentless. So, here's a nice, solid foundation of good, because stars know the poor kid needs it.


End file.
